on?"

"Not just yet," Brian Taggert admitted.

"Nor can I. There it is. Every single one of his valid predictions,
every single one of his precognitive intuitions--_without
exception_--has been based on the actions of human beings. He can
predict stock market fluctuations, and family squabbles, and South
American election results. His disaster predictions, every one of
them, were due to _human_ error, _human_ failure--not Acts of God. He
failed to predict the earthquake in Los Angeles; he missed the flood
in the Yangtze Valley; he knew nothing of the eruption of Stromboli.
All of these were disasters that took human lives in the past three
weeks, and he missed every one of them. And yet, he managed to get
nearly every major ship, airplane, and even automobile accident
connected with his subjects.

"Seven of his subjects had relatives or friends who were hurt or
killed in the earthquake-flood-eruption sequence, but he didn't see
them. Yet he could pick up such small things as a nephew of one of the
men getting a bad scald on his arm.

"In the face of that, how can we rely on his one prediction about a
meteor striking Moonbase One?"

Taggert rubbed his forehead thoughtfully. "I don't know," he said
slowly. "There must be a connection somehow."

"Oh, Brian, Brian!" Her eyes were glistening with as yet unshed tears.
"I've never seen you go off on a wild tangent like this before! On the
word of an old fraud like Forsythe, a man who lies about half the
time, you talk the Administration into sinking hundreds of millions of
dollars into the biggest space lift in history!

"Oh, sure; I know. The old fraud is convinced he was telling the
truth. But were you tapping his mind when the prediction flash came?
No! Was anyone? No! And he's perfectly capable of lying to himself,
and you know it!

"And what will happen if it doesn't come off? We're past the first
deadline already. If that meteor doesn't hit within the next
twenty-eight days, the Society will be right back where it was ten
years ago! Or worse!

"And all because you trusted the word of Mr. Phony-Doctor Forsythe!"

"Donna," Taggert said softly, "do you really think I'm that big a
fool?" He handed her a handkerchief.

"N-no," she answered, wiping at her eyes. "Of c-course I don't. It's
just that it makes me so d-darn _mad_ to see everything go wrong like
this."

"Nothing's gone wrong yet. I suggest you go take a good look at
Forsythe's mind again and really